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I've never been so thrilled with myself for saying no before in my life.  :)
"Babe, are you sure you don't want to head out now?  We'll find the bathroom on the way"
"Not a chance, we might miss this"
"What exactly re we going to be missing"
"I have no idea...but it's gonna be good"
And...it was.
AEROSMITH.   AEROSMITH and JOHNNY DEPP.  AEROSMITH IN HOLLYWOOD WITH JOHNNY DEPP...AND I GOT TO SEE IT!  BOOM.
The show over all was great.  As a fan of these guys, watching them in person rock out is always fantastic to see.  To hear?  Yes, of course, it's rock and roll baby c'mon!  But these boys are more than typical rock, these men are rock solid.  They have tunes that people have loved since before I was even born.  It's always made me wonder though, how come they all seem to be aging appropriately, except for Joe Perry?  Don't get me wrong, they aren't drastically horrifying to look at, Steven Tylers had his share of "work done", he's also been to hell and back, along with the rest of them, with regard to drugs and alcohol.  But Joe just looks good.   He doesn't have a stupid crows foot.  And he also doesn't look pumped full of botox...and yes, even I've done that once or twice.  But really and truly, he looks good.   And not "for his age".  He looks like he did thirty years ago.  Maybe not as sickly, as again, addictions can certainly make one look ill.  So anyway, when at the very last second, Steven Tyler announced something about hearing that Depp was "in the house", I just about fell off the chair...that at five feet tall, I was standing on.  Well holy shitstix in heaven...Johnny Depp came out to jam.  With the already awesome energy of Aerosmith.  And I was there to see it.  I think I can almost die happy now.  If Slash was there too, I'd be buried already.  :)
Peace, Love, Rock On.  Mel

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Here's a thought provoking twist in everyday fate.    
The baby gets away with everything.  
It's assumed the youngest family member lives on Easy Street...  But what happens when the baby grows up?
I've been sitting here since 8:45 pm.    As a child, I'd say a prayer every night, to please let me die first.     Ironically being the oldest, I'm not nearly tough enough to ever be the baby.    Even now, the first thing I say every night, is a prayer to please let me die first.   I'm supposed to, because I'm the oldest.    
Yesterday evening,  I saw pain in the eyes of a grown up "baby".  She's the youngest of four girls, and a boy.  After decades of four sisters strong, three have died just this year.  
The baby suffering today, is a girl I'd give my own heart too.   My mothers mother.   My first ever best friend.    Needless to say, we hold a strong bond, one that'll never be broken.  It's selfish I can't seem to steady myself, but the intention is kind I guess?  
The baby doesn't have it easy.

The baby endures pain like no other must.
The baby brings centuries of family together, and reminds us where we've come from.  It's through her, that a hundred years from now, none of us will  be forgotten.   Stories become legends, and laughter and love, and so often it starts, with the baby.


Quite Kindly,

M



~ A ~ E ~ B ~

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  Yesterday I got a check in from Green Eyes.   In response to a post on some social media something somewhere not in the land of OZ, was the following.
ME:  Tell the mess of a mind your waiting for, that this is you, and you don't wait.  Done.
G.EYES:  Perfect...You're so right.
ME:  Duh.
(Yes, I actually, for the first time in my life, said duh).
G.EYES:  You're actually a pretty good adviser...Maybe you should be an agent/writer!
ME:  I can do anything Mr.(Green Eyes) ~ but you know that already, otherwise you'd not be wasting time on me.
G.EYES:  True enough...Keep writing!

Truly, have I ever really not?

FYI, because it's my blog and I can.  
On a plane, if you don't put your oxygen mask on first, you'll pass out, and be worthless to everybody else.   The healthier you are, the more you have to offer.  

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Part of my "assignment" from Green Eyes, is to continue blogging.    So, hello world, how is today?  Oh me?  I'm doing lovely thank you, just trying not to melt.  My aches from falling last week, are completely gone.  Of course they've been replaced because when do I take it easy?  Right, so I decided to re-arrange my studio, by myself, moving antique wooden furniture with my own two, small,but strong, hands.   As of last night, my neck down hates me.  Again though, this is me, I'll figure it out.   I always do.  Oh yes, and I have a brand new friend...his name is Tyler, and he's a giant lizard that hangs out at the window  here.  I think he's trying to grow himself into the size of the wooden crocodile that's currently guarding my house.   The last several days, have been a little hazy, I'm tired, and typing non stop.  But better be busy than bored I suppose.
Peacocks, Coyotes, and Lizards...  Oh My.
Quite Kindly,
Achey, but Smiling
Mell

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Willing the floorboards to buckle, seemed appropriate, after falling so far from grace.

Green Eyes, while gorgeous, turned out to be a gentleman.   He was genuine, even concerned, offering to help me up. 

Up, because finding yourself at the bottom, it’s the only direction to go. 

After the momentary lapse of consciousness, I stood.  He gave me a hug instead of a handshake, then for a solid two hours, advised me, informed me, and explained the tools I would need, to move forward.  It wasn’t the most eloquent of introductions, but where’s the fun in that?    The jeans, my nerves, and my doe eyes are all simply part of my charm. 

Boom. 

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I wanted to launch myself clear through the roof.

Next mess.

The severity of my ridiculous “slip”, decided to educate the rest of me, at the very moment my jaw suddenly felt it imperative to dive into my ankles.    Not wanting to miss out on the fun, my vocal cords ran for the hills, after packing up any pounce of vocabulary.     I might have pulled a simple “hi” out of the air, had my arms not fallen out of the sockets, now missing from the general shoulder area, all the while my hands wondered aimlessly in ignorant bliss.  My spleen was still MIA,  my neck was laughing so hard at the rest of me, that my head was now on it’s own, balloon like, floating around in the room.  I think.  

My remaining parts were screaming in pain (fucking slip), except for my eyes that had fallen from grace just before the rest of my body abandoned shop.

Bye Boom.

Tall, devastatingly handsome, stellar in form, styled to perfection, and  quite possibly amused at my current state of profound stupidity, he stood there.   And I was there.    And my ass was, stuck to the chair.  Shoot.

Boom gone.

This epic masterpiece of a man, surpassed anything even G.Q. might dream up.   His eyes, I credit with unraveling the cellular structure of anything in a six mile radius.  Green, piercing, vivacious, they were fascinating, and curious, wildly strong and dancing with wisdom.   Electricity poured out of those eyes.  

Him who was there to meet … me?  In a sweatshirt?  Oh fuck fuck and double fuckstix.  Shit.  To my defense, the sweater, cost more alone, than the jeans, Uggs and tee combined.  Boom a little?  No.  Really not. 

My sisters voice rang through my ears.  Oh ears!  Yay they still worked! 

“When have you not gotten whatever you wanted?  Your there, go get it”.    My sister, a force of natural intelligence you do not want to fuck with.    “Go get it”.

I’ll try.

Boom… A little.

Quite Kindly,

And determined to find boom,

Me. 

PS- Peanuts. 

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Staring at denim covered knee caps, I suddenly felt like Andy.    The interview-esque meeting wasn’t for Runway, and Prada isn’t intimidating.  Still, that last minute “oh fuckstix what did I do” feeling sunk in...hard.  Shit.   I thought I’d swallowed my spleen.

As usual, in traditional me fashion, moxie came back, swept through the scene, and set the stage.

A divine little coffee house, near the water, in the town I was born in.   No worries.

So, eco- happy gift bag (olive branch)on the empty wooden table.  Black (lunch-box) “work bag” on the chair to my left.  Classic Chanel quilted tan bag, with leather and silver handle displaying appropriately (but subtly) the CC logo.  And me.  Honestly, un sure any meeting would really happen,  with knees tucked to chin. 

Jeans, Uggs, Def Leppard concert tee, (washed out and black), a diamond ring set on one hand, aqua and topaz design on the other and my ipad nestled on top.   Breathing is a must if one hopes to accomplish life let alone a may be interview-esque meeting.

I dropped my pen in the dirt when I slipped on my way out the door this morning.   Fuckstix.  I can’t sketch?  Oh holy hell I can’t even write.  Of all the times in my life, TODAY I don’t have a writing utensil, really?  SERIOUSLY?!  Wait, don’t panic … type darling.  Bingo.  

Scene set, let’s see what I have to say.

I'm waiting for somebody.  I’m good with people, even the most obnoxious excuse for one, yet here I am, starting to quake like a sitting duck.  Fuck.  I don’t remember the moment I swallowed my spleen, but I absolutely have.  It isn’t necessarily him that’s flipped my spinal column upside down, rather it’s what he represents (potentially).   Probably.  It’s very likely this man is the beginning of my next chapter.   

So what do I represent?  I’m shy, but I’m here.  Strength.  My legs are jelly, but I’m here.  Confidence.  Snagging an hour of this man’s precious time?  Courage, balls and audacity.  Nice Mell!

A musician, business man, cool guy, great husband, dad of the century  etc etc etc.  Today, to me he's a well respected, writer.   Ambitious.   A get up and make it work man.  Though it isn’t about money, it’s about credit where such is due.   It’s taken almost a year.   E-mails, voice mails, a text here and there, matched on both his side and mine, accompanied by my sweet natured get up and go, have resulted in now.    I hope? 

Yesterday “the” song came on.  It’s on my iPod, but I kid you not, it disappears from time to time.  At seemingly random moments it plays.  Startling me, yet teaching me timing.  I pulled into the driveway, hopped (literally) out of my Jeep, then calmly but with intention, I sat down, counted to ten, and sent the following message.

“You don’t have to get me a job.  I’ll do that.  And you don’t need a sob story, but you’ll kick yourself hard if you pass on mine.  Confidence is as much a virtue as patience.  (This I know)  Lucky for you, I don’t have anybody else smart enough (or worth said patience) to hound.  So, bark.”

Less than a second later, he called and said he’s coming to LA.   Stay smart Melissa.  “When?”.  Tomorrow he replied.  Shit shit shit… “What time do you arrive, I’ll be at the airport.”  I’m sorry who jumped in and took over my vocal cords??  How …assertive?  Whoa.  Wow.  Go little Meliss.   The kicker is he didn’t argue.  He didn’t?  Really?  Nope.  I didn’t give him the chance.  He told me the ETA, and the last words were mine.  “I’ll see you when you land”. 

Boom!  (did I mention the silent fist punch into the air?   There may have also been a cartwheel)

Sans sleep, I unraveled myself from the sheets, showered etc, then put myself together, looked ok (all things considered don’t ask), and … that’s when I lost my pen.   It wasn’t a  “slip”, I kind of passed out-ish.   Boom indeed.

Found a handful of pride hanging on a near bye tree branch, went back inside, ate something, drank a Vitamin Water, dusted myself off, jumped into jeans, and transformed back to the real me. 

In this technological world of apps up and out the wazoo, the only meaningful energy source has dwindled it’s way down, to me. 

My sisters just called.  "Don't be nervous.  Well c'mon, it's you. 

When have you not gotten whatever you wanted?  Your there, go get it". 

#NuffSaid

Quite Kindly,

Possibly lacking a spleen, but not on my knees and fully clothed,

Me.  Little…But Oh My Indeed. 

iHope

PS – He just walked in.  Crimany, I’ve forgotten how to speak.